


Count to Three

by Oakley



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergence, Character Death, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Galra Culture, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, I just don't like being controlled by the original plot in my story telling, M/M, Not AU, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15711111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oakley/pseuds/Oakley
Summary: “Wait, is love . . . a choice for the Galra?”





	1. Chapter 1

“You may need to initiate,” Antok huffed to no one in particular, his feet propped up on the dining table.

Antok had two hobbies as far as Shiro could tell: getting dirt on tables and antagonizing Shiro when he was trying to eat. Regardless of Kolivan rolling his eyes and the ennui rising in his bloodstream, Shiro caved.

“Initiate what, exactly?”

Kolivan cleared his throat and have Antok a _look._ Antok held it with stark solemnity for a moment before darting a hand out to steal Kolivan's fruit and take a bite for himself - all while maintaining that intense eye contact. Kolivan's left eye twitched and he rolled up the thin comic Pidge had shoved in his hands one day and swatted Antok over the head with it.

Antok smirked and seemed to accept this assault like he would a badge of honor.

“I mean . . .  _initiate._ ”

Shiro let out a truly pathetic sigh of exhaustion and frustration.

"Initiate  _what-"_

“You do not already know?” Antok cut him off, eyes widening in disbelief.

 "Antok, do not _harass_ our allies," Kolivan tried, to no avail.

Antok swung his legs off the table and gave Kolivan a mirthful, pleading look.

“Kolivan, this man does not know that he is _taken."_

Shiro gagged on his liquid soylent.

“What now?  _Taken?_ ”

They both fell silent.

“Antok should not have said anything.”

Kolivan pushed out through clenched teeth and a murderous look at his fellow Galra. Antok sniffed and held his eye, taking another bite of his stolen fruit.

“Have you been sleeping and eating regularly?”

Kolivan sighed.

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to prepare himself for wherever this conversation was going.

“As far as I know, yes. What about you, Antok?”

“We have been well cared for,” Kolivan said.

If Shiro had been less awake he might have mistaken his serious tone for sarcasm. The slight upturn of Kolivan’s lip did nothing to help this. But Antok pressed further.

“You’ve noticed no changes in vitality?”

Shiro shook his head, no. Truthfully, he had noticed he’d been sleeping better recently, but that wasn’t saying much considering he was recovering from a constant state of unrest encouraged by being tracked down by Galra gun ships several times a day.

“That is strange,” Kolivan chimed in this time, tilting his head to the left slightly.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Shiro sighed. “Why are you asking me this?”

Antok and Kolivan shared a meaningful glance. Then Antok spoke once more.

“It is . . . unusual that you would feel nothing.”

Kolivan nudged Antok’s arm with his own.

“Perhaps, Antok, this fledgling connection has existed for longer than our being aware of it.”

Shiro gave them his best tired-but-trying-to-be-polite-and-courteous tight-lipped, placating grin.

“I’m sorry, boys. I’m a little lost.”

Antok nodded and averted his gaze from Kolivan’s, seeming to come to some sort of decision. Shiro tried again.

“But - it’s great to have you with us, we really appreciate all the help you’ve given us. It’s good for the team, I think. Good for Keith.”

Kolivan’s lip turned up again in what Shiro could only guess was amusement.

“Ah, yes . . . Keith,” Antok spoke his name as though Keith were some strange and amusing puzzle he’d never quite figure out.

“I imagine you’ve been something of an influence on the boy as well.”

Shiro let a smile lift some of the weariness from his face. 

“I can only hope to have that honor.”

Antok’s eyes shone a little brighter at the admonition.

“We do not yet understand how or why Earthlings form relationships. But it is good that Keith has found some manner of peace.”

And Shiro was confused again. It must have shown on his face - Kolivan took a step closer and lowered his voice.

“He is at rest,” he murmured just loudly enough for Shiro to hear.

“Can you not feel it?” Antok wondered, no small amount of - pity, or something - coloring his expression.

“I - he just seems like himself,” Shiro fumbled nervously. “I mean, he's no different around me than usual.”

“Keith is . . . tethered,” Kolivan said, somehow even quieter.

“This is very good. For his Galra half,” Antok filled in as though he were speaking to a toddler, taking a wet bite of fruit and chewing so loudly they were all reminded that the mess hall was definitely empty besides the three of them.

Kolivan shook his head and pursed his lips at Antok and Antok seemed to find some strange joy in that. But finally Kolivan spoke.

“A tethered Galra is a focused Galra.”

“He’ll be a better soldier for it. He’ll live longer,” Antok supplied.

Shiro was beginning to grow uncomfortable.

“Right. Well, thank you for informing me of all this,” he said, messing with his wrists where his stimulators used to be.

“We know our own well,” Antok continued regardless. “We knew he might be… unwelcoming to this particular type of scrutiny-”

“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop you there,” Shiro stepped back and put a hand up. “I’m not comfortable speaking about this without his knowledge or consent.”

Kolivan gave him a look that Shiro definitely couldn’t translate. Shiro held his own. He wasn't going to betray Keith's confidence - regardless of what they we're trying to teach Shiro about him.

“He is lucky,” Kolivan said after a small, considering pause.

He curled a hand around Antok’s elbow and pulled him to his feet and away towards the door.

Just out of earshot, Shiro thought he heard Antok whisper something like, _“so few of us are.”_

Shiro was left with more questions than answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You . . . look at me different.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Keith announced to Shiro one day, leaning against the frame of the door leading to Shiro's quarters. 

They would often do this on quiet days. Just sort of . . . linger with one another. Sometimes it led to speaking. Sometimes not. Shiro was glad for the company and he had no reason to question Keith felt differently.

Shiro stopped what he was doing and came to his full height, propping his left hand on his hip. He gave Keith a once-over to check for any visible signs of stress or disease and found none but a hesitant look in his eyes. 

“No,” he said finally, lowering his gaze back down to the bedsheets he'd been straightening. “I guess you aren’t.”

Keith let out a semi-confused little puff of air and finally crossed the threshold.

“That’s not still how you see me though,” he sighed, “is it?”

Shiro thought about it for a moment, considering. He could have just said no, but it sounded like this was an actual concern.

Keith pulled out the chair just far enough from his desk to climb over and onto it backwards, coming to rest with his arms folded over the back of it.

“What started you on this all of a sudden?” he asked finally. 

Keith twitched and averted his eyes, finally letting his chin rest over his arms. Something hot and protective lit up inside Shiro’s chest.

“Keith?” he pressed.

If something was bothering him, he wanted to know sooner rather than later. Before it came between them or affected a mission. Keith was a focused and talented leader, but when something destructive wormed its way to the top of his priority list - such as a fear of a close friend seeing him differently than he’d prefer - he wasn’t very good at compartmentalizing.

“You can talk to me - you’ve always been able to talk to me.”

Keith started to say something, cut himself off abruptly, then stopped and pushed his head into his forearm with a sharp, sad little sigh.

Shiro wrestled with himself for a moment, then took a risky step forward and boxed Keith in with his hands on either side of him, most of his weight testing on the desk behind them.

Keith slowly brought his eyes back up to Shiro’s.

“What?” he asked again. Then, softer, "what is it?"

Keith’s eyes widened a bit before he found the words.

“You . . . look at me different.”

Shiro searched back through their recent encounters. He couldn't identify any changes.  
  
“When - when I came back with my mother, you . . . looked at me different."

Keith let out another breath of air that went directly into Shiro’s headspace. He only now realized how close they'd drifted, how aggressive his stance was. He leaned back a bit and Keith seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Yeah . . .” Shiro answered after a few moments.

"What changed?" Keith asked, barely above a whisper.

Shiro leaned in again to hear better before asking, "what do you think changed?” 

He couldn't quite keep the tension out of his voice and Keith bristled in a way Shiro hadn’t seen him do for years - _god damn it._

“Actually, nevermind, I think this can wait,” Keith said, trying to escape out from under Shiro’s arm.

Shiro caught him by the elbow and pulled him back before he could bolt for the door.

“Keith, I --” he stopped. He laughed a little at how flighty Keith was being about this. He didn’t know what he was trying to say. Keith was right, their energy had been . . . off recently. He stepped forward into Keith's space again. He'd been doing that a lot recently, he realized.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. That’s not how I see you anymore."

Keith held his eye for a moment.

“Good,” he said.

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed quietly, searching his eyes for something. “Good.”

Keith put his hand over Shiro’s for a moment, then peeled his fingers gently away from his arm and exited Shiro’s quarters.

Shiro stood there for a moment, coming down from some high he hadn't realized he'd reached. His brain tried to recap and figure out what had just happened.

He eventually just sighed and pushed the chair back in. The air still smelled like Keith and he was having trouble thinking clearly. 

“ _What_ is going on?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He is so young.”

“Are Earthlings unused to bonding?” Antok questioned him one day over a sparring session.

All three of them were intimately aware of the stark reality of and importance of being prepared for war to strike at any moment. So finally, after awkwardly trying to train in symbiotic silence for several days, Kolivan had tossed Shiro a staff and invited him to join in. Kolivan generally sparred in silence, focus being the operative word. However, Antok’s mind never seemed to shut off even when he was focusing on sparring techniques. Shiro had gotten used to his mindless chatter. The only difference recently was that it all seemed to be directed at him.

“Um - I don’t know. Humans bond all the time,” he threw back, avoiding a thrust aimed just a little too close to his head.

“All the time?” Antok gaped at him and came to a stop, disbelief in his eyes.

Shiro took one look at his feet and threw his weight downward, spinning round to swipe Antok's feet out from under him.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he chuckled, standing and offering a hand to a very stunned Blade of Marmora. “Humans bond all the -”

“Alright.” To Shiro’s great disappointment, Kolivan held up a hand and stopped him there.

Too bad, Antok’s lips were going all funny like he’d just swallowed a lemon.

“What does this word mean on Earth?” Kolivan asked, a faint hint of amusement hidden in his eyes somewhere.

“A bond is something you can pretty much share with anyone. In simplest terms, it’s . . . a connection. To share interests and sort of - I don’t know, fall in sync with one another in a new way.”

Antok’s brow raised marginally and he reached out to accept Shiro’s hand.

"That is  _not_ what this word means to the Galra," he grunted out while allowing Shiro to pull him back to his feet.

Shiro laughed good-naturedly.

“It didn’t sound like it,” he said, going to retrieve Antok’s staff he’d thrown when Shiro had surprised him.

“What does it mean for the Galra?” Antok simply fell silent and gazed at Kolivan expectantly.

Kolivan sighed, but gave in.

“A bond is a manifestation of great passion,” he said dully. “To show an intent of bonding is no small matter. For most Galra, a bond occurs only once - or twice - in our lifespan, if we’re lucky."

Shiro felt himself rise into his full height. He fixed the both of them with a look that had most cadets stuttering and mumbling apologies immediately.

“Are you trying to tell me that _Keith-_ ”

Antok’s lip curled back over his teeth in an expression that Shiro was sure was meant to be intimidating.

“We should not have said anything. We know nothing of Earth. Kolivan, let us -”

But once again, for better or for worse that day, Kolivan held up a hand to stop the proceedings.

“He is the one who is being asked, Antok. He deserves to understand what that entails.”

But Antok was working himself into a fit, it looked it. He stalked closer to Shiro, back hunching defensively. Something in that reminded Shiro so much of Keith he had to remind himself to focus on the increasingly angry and distressed Galra in front of him instead of taking a walk down memory lane.

“Perhaps it is unusual for males of your species to engage in such things with other -”

“Antok, this is _not_ our choice. It is Shiro’s.”

Shiro really, really didn’t want this conversation to continue. But damn him, he had to know what that meant.

“Wait, is love . . . a choice for the Galra?”

Kolivan pursed his lips. But Antok beat him to it.

“We are still unsure of what this word means to you on Earth.”

Shiro blinked. The Galra must have love. He’d seen it in Krolia’s eyes when she looked at her son. He'd imagined perhaps there was something like it shared between Antok and Kolivan. But perhaps - perhaps _romantic_  affiliations weren’t as common for the Galra as they were for the people of Earth.

“Okay. Love. Well?” He started, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s like . . . well - do the Galra have anything like marriage?”

Kolivan looked at Antok.

“Marriage is something Earthlings must do before engaging in procreation, yes?” Antok tried.

Shiro almost choked on his laughter.

“Uhhh. Oh god. Not quite? Most people marry for love. I think.”

His face was quickly turning red.

“A-at least, I’d like to think they do. Love. Right. Love is . . . like, a collection of emotions combining into one greater emotion that dictates your . . . devotion - and romantic intent - for another person.”

Antok smiled. “Ah, yes. This is what we call a bond.”

Kolivan narrowed his eyes.

“That is not all that a bond entails, however. The emotions, yes. But it runs deeper than that,” he explained. “When two Galra are bonded, their Quintessence combines into one. When this happens, the . . . signature changes slightly. This change is something the Galra have evolved to recognize.”

Shiro was only a small amount very impressed and intrigued by this.

“That’s - that’s incredible!”

“Truly. However, it _is_ a choice,” Kolivan finished hurriedly.

“It must be," Antok agreed.

Shiro couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Of course the Galra had to _choose_ to love. That explained so much about their people and their culture.

“It’s not a choice for us on Earth!” Shiro exclaimed excitedly, having some difficulty keeping his enthusiasm at bay. “We don’t have any say in the matter!”

Kolivan and Antok exchanged a horrified look.

“I now see the reasoning for such a confliction to be present in this child,” Kolivan mused.

Antok shuddered.

“He is so young.”

Shiro’s heart skipped a beat when he realized the truth in those words.

“Kolivan - if Keith is only half Galra, does that mean he doesn’t fully get to choose?”

Kolivan sighed. “We do not know. This is why we approached you.”

Antok took a step forward.

“We . . . know of your condition.”

Shiro’s jaw set.

“You must consider this carefully. If anything were to happen to you, to be widowed so young could very easily kill him.”

Shiro's heart stopped. His ears were ringing. Antok was speaking, but he couldn't hear him the ringing was so loud. 

Kolivan looked on him with sad eyes.

“You can see, then, why we would have evolved to be able to detect these things.”

A heavy stone slid into place over Shiro’s heart and he could feel it sinking down into his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm okay, kid. I just thought I'd check in on you, you little shit."

Keith has been avoiding Shiro. It wasn’t too obvious at first, they all had work to do and Shiro admittedly needed a pocket of space to wrap his mind around their last encounter. But the absence of quiet moments shared together afterward work was done was beginning to speak louder than the work itself. So he decided it was probably time to do some digging. There were only so many places Keith would go if he felt like he couldn't go to Shiro - that at least had not changed much from when he was younger. He could only assume two years spent with his mother wouldn't affect his subconscious enough for him to rapidly shift in his routine - routine being the operative word. 

First he tried Lance - the two of them had become closer recently - but Lance hadn’t seen him in days either.

“Is everything okay?” Lance asked in a way that sounded nonchalant but absolutely was not.

Shiro paused. He couldn’t tell him. Lance was a good kid, but he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it. Even worse, Shiro felt as though he'd been making headway in getting Lance to relax around him as a member of the team. He didn't want to throw any of that in jeopardy. Whatever was happening with Keith could easily disrupt a careful balance none of the other paladins had ever had need or reason to question.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said after a minute. "We just had plans. How are you?”

Lance raised an eyebrow. Damn, he'd gotten more perceptive. Allura - or Keith, or any other paladin on the team, honestly - must have been having an affect on him. 

“I’m . . . fine,” he said slowly, confusion dripping from each word. “How are you, Shiro?”

Horrible.

He laughed and gave Lance a gentle shove on the shoulder and ruffled his hair. 

"H-hey! Shiro, cut it out, man!" He yelled in surprised laughter. 

"I'm okay, kid. I just thought I'd check in on _you_ , you little shit." 

Lance started to relax again. Thank goodness. 

"Well," Lance laughed in response, "let me know when you find him, I guess." 

“Oh, I will.”

Shiro waited until he'd rounded the corner to let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Damn. Whatever this was was really messing with his head. After several other excruciatingly awkward encounters, he realized just how little the crew seemed to know about Keith’s routine. Perhaps, he realized, he didn’t know much of it, either - and it just stood out to him because he’d been a part of it prior to this. He eventually found himself in front of Keith’s door.

He was about to knock when he heard something. Shiro leaned in and put an ear to the door, curiosity overtaking his better judgment. He couldn’t identify the nature of them immediately, but there were a series of low and repetitive grunts coming from behind the door. He listened for another beat, wondering whether he should go ahead and announce his presence or bolt and forget about it altogether. Whatever Keith got up to his free time was Keith’s business as far as Shiro was -

“You gonna just stand out there all day?” Keith shouted from the other side of the door.

Well. Okay. This was happening.

“Keith, I -” Shiro opened to door to see Keith doing . . . push-ups.

Of course. Shiro’s brain took that information and applied it to everything he needed to apply it to before proceeding.

“What?” he ground out, not compromising in his rhythm for a second.

Shiro was impressed. It had taken him some time to be able to do one-armed push-ups - even after he’d lost the other arm’s fatigue. But it looked like Keith had been at it for a while.

“I can come back later if you’d like.” Keith let out a disgruntled little sigh and faltered, his arm giving out and his jaw crashing into the floor.

“Oh, shit!” Shiro yelled, rushing over immediately.

Keith was back on his feet almost before he reached him, though, holding out a hand to stop him.

“I’m good! This happens every day - I heal faster, remember?”

Shiro simultaneously wanted to laugh at and throw something at him for that.

“Yes, you heal faster - but that doesn’t stop you from healing out of alignment,” he chastised through his teeth.

Keith just laughed at him and ducked away to grab a towel and some water.

“What did you need? Are you going somewhere?” He asked before opening the bottle and almost draining it.

Shiro took a moment to consider. Perhaps Keith had just been busy. He seemed to be back to normal with Shiro, at least.

“Nothing like that,” he sighed.

Keith cocked an eyebrow at him, his breath slowly coming back to him. Shiro hadn't realized how little he visited Keith on his own unless he was on his way out somewhere. 

“I just . . . wanted to check up on you,” he finished lamely.

Keith’s eyes darted over him as if looking for signs of wear or tear.

“I’m alright, I think,” he said quietly. “Just stressed and tired like everyone else here.”

Shiro held his eye for a moment, then laughed and looked down at his feet. He didn’t know how to do this with Keith - they’d always just fallen into a rhythm and stayed on it until they found another. There was never anything to initiate - no games of cat and mouse to be played with their interactions. At least that wasn’t how it had felt. If something needed to be done, he did it. Plain and simple. Keith bent down a little to catch his eye, though. Always meeting him where he was.

“Are you alright, Shiro? I . . . know things got a little - well, weird - last time we talked." Keith rubbed the back of his neck, discomfort growing evident in how he was holding himself. "I’m . . . sorry about that.”

Shiro laughed again, letting himself relax. He was so mature - he always had been. A tiny, familiar piece of him felt a little insecure, wondering when Keith would find out that he didn’t, in fact, have it all figured out - that he didn’t have any of it figured out.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” he said gently, reaching out and brushing some hair out of Keith’s eyes without questioning it too much in his head.

He let an easy smile crawl onto his lips and Keith’s eyelids fluttered and closed, letting out another sigh and leaning into Shiro’s hand. Shiro realized, maybe for the first time, that he might in fact do anything for Keith. It was a strange combination of feelings to have arrive so quietly and in one package. Shiro usually either felt very protective or very cared for - it was new and terrifying to have both.

“Thank God,” Keith sighed, letting some tension seep out of his own muscles.

“Is that what’s had you all messed up recently?” Shiro wondered aloud, his thumb tracing Keith’s cheekbone.

Keith shrugged and looked away. Shiro waited for a moment. He was about to pull away when Keith stepped forward a bit and brought his own hand up to cover Shiro’s and finally, finally met his eye again. He nodded.

“I meant what I said. There’s nothing you need to worry about,” Shiro laughed fondly, reaching out with his other hand to pull Keith into a tight hug.

Keith hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Shiro. He held onto him as tight as he could.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Shiro didn’t feel like anything was “gonna be okay.” Not until he figured this out.

But he wasn’t at all willing to sacrifice what little comfort he and Keith shared with each other in order to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t remember what that means . . . do you?” Krolia asked, a little sadly.
> 
> \-------
> 
> Okay, so I've updated the tags to include character death - stay safe, kids. 
> 
> Side note, sorry this chapter took so long. I had like, 3 auditions for school and had to focus on that.

Many things happened at once. It was like one moment Shiro closed his eyes to the brightness of all this intimacy and introspection and opened them the next to violence and to loss.

He’d lived a messy life of flaws and sweat and effort back on Earth just like the rest of his species, but he’d never had to live with loss like he did now on such a daily, trying basis. Was he going to decline in health? Yes. Had he really planned for that or processed it yet? Absolutely not. Life was for living - at least it had been before the Kerberos mission. But now, to stare in the face of a loss he never even could have imagined he’d have to prepare himself for, he was having a hard time figuring out how - or if - to cope. Losing a piece of himself - and a piece of his life and his memories and _this body_ \- it was ugly and unforgivable and it sat ugly and unforgivable deep in his bones in a way he didn’t know if he could translate.

Antok was dead.

The entire crew felt his absence like a knife in the gut. Even Princess Allura, who had warmed to him immensely, enough to snicker at a joke once or twice even though he reminded her of everything she hated.

Keith and Kolivan circled each other like opposing sides of magnets, unwilling to venture too close to intimate territory. Keith, ever warm, ever caring to those he lets close enough to find that warmth wanting to reach out and help ease some of Kolivan’s suffering and Kolivan refusing to lean on someone so young for support. Krolia wandered similarly around the Castle like a phantom for a couple of days, seemingly letting the grief climb into her body and take up residence. Keith tried the same with her, but she and Kolivan had enough in common for her to keep her distance from her son as well.

Shiro was surprised one day to be intercepted by both of the ghosts wandering the halls of the Castle of LIons independent of one another.

Krolia found him sitting with the Black Lion in one of their rare moments of quiet. She didn’t corner him necessarily, but with how Keith had been behaving and with . . . the events . . . of the last couple of days, he’d known it was coming.

She wandered in like a cat, sauntering vaguely in his direction, as though she were deciding whether or not to pounce. Krolia ended up kneeling next to him, almost too quiet to notice. Almost. They sat in silence for a moment, mingling breaths and letting the moment build itself.

“What do you remember?” she asked finally, a little too casually.

“I . . .” Shiro began, a headache already beginning to form between his eyes. “I honestly don’t know. Some of it feels real. Some of it . . . some of it feels too unbelievable.”

She nodded to herself, as if coming to some sort of internal conclusion.

“Walk me through it?”

“I have all these fragments of the same period of time,” Shiro began carefully, knowing there was no way out of this. That one way or another she deserved to know on several levels at once, one being the fresh, pink cut blossoming into a scar on her son’s face. “It’s like I lived one life and went to bed every night and woke up in a different dimension.”

“Yes . . . “ Krolia said gently. “But, what do you _remember_?”

Shiro stayed quiet for a long time. He was aware his vision was becoming blurry, his eyes were burning and his breaths were becoming unsteady. Shiro shut his eyes against it - and found no comfort in the memories fighting their way into his field of vision. He only realized he was curling into a ball when he felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles into his tensed muscles.

“Ohhh, oh, oh . . .” Krolia sighed gently, in the way only mothers can. “It’s okay, baby, everything’s gonna be okay . . .”

“No, it’s not-” Shiro cried, “I - I put my _blade_ on him, _Krolia_ -” he said, letting his hands - both the human and the foreign one cover his eyes. “I can’t _ever_ undo that.”

Krolia’s hand twitched on his back at those words, but she evened out her breath and held her ground in the moment and Shiro loved her for that. He loved her _fiercely_ for that.

“Shiro, Keith doesn’t care about that,” she whispered in that same nurturing tone. “He knows - we _all_ know that wasn’t you.”

“You . . .” Shiro began, trembling now under the honesty of their words. “You _can’t_ know that. Maybe it’s - he’s - still up there,” he gestured to his head, “Maybe he’ll come back - what if - what if _next time I can’t stop it?”_ he finished, much, much louder than he’d intended.

Krolia abruptly stopped rubbing his back and took his hand in hers, squeezing it.

“These things are hard, but I think we can handle it,” she said with confidence Shiro was almost certain she didn’t have. “And as I remember, you didn’t stop anything.”

Shiro started to pull his hand back, but Krolia held on tight.

“What I meant was, the way Keith told it to us, you weren’t really in control,” she said carefully. “He did everything he could to get you out of there and keep you intact, but he had reached the point where he was going to get you out of there whether or not you were intact.”

Shiro had finally stopped crying and was now working to get himself to stop shaking. He didn't bother to tell her that he hadn't been intact. That whoever it was who fought Keith, who  _hurt_ Keith . . . he was gone and he wasn't ever coming back. Shiro tried to keep his throat from tightening again at the thought. It so easily could have been him. He had no way of knowing he himself wasn't a clone. He had very little memories of how he escaped from the Galra after they'd taken him from the Kerberos mission. He had no way of knowing the original Shiro wasn't just - dead, and gone, forever. 

“I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t reach him,” Shiro said tiredly. “I would have eventually just . . . dispersed or something.”

Krolia’s eyes widened a by a few degrees.

“That must have been terrifying.”

“It was,” Shiro said, nodding. “I didn’t really let myself think about it until I got back. But now it’s not the same and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Krolia pursed her lips like she was debating whether or not to say something.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I definitely think it’s better this way.”

“Better?” Shiro asked, finally meeting her eye.

He looked so raw and open - so different from how strangely mechanical his clone had been. It was as if a piece of him was missing from it - possibly the most vital piece.

“Yeah,” she said and couldn’t help but smile. “You should probably talk to my son, though.”

Shiro groaned and she laughed.

“What do you remember about _that?_ ” she pried.

Shiro huffed with embarrassment - and maybe a little with vulnerability, too.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he said finally.

“You saw through his eyes, didn’t you?” She asked, in both an unreadable tone and with an unreadable gaze.

Shiro stared. How could she have known that? She smiled and squeezed his hand one last time before letting go of it to stand and offer it to him again in invitation.

“Galra can tell when two people are a little important to each other,” she laughed again.

He furrowed his brow and her eyes softened.

“You don’t remember what that means . . . do you?” Krolia asked, a little sadly.

“I’m . . . sorry,” he murmured quietly, finally taking her hand and letting her pull him up to standing with a surprising amount of strength. “I’m . . . having trouble piecing things together. But some memories are just . . . gone.”

She patted his cheek with her hand after he was standing before her, looking more confused and lost than before.

“I taught my son everything he knows - well, almost - about Galra culture,” she smiled gently. “You should ask him about that sometime, when you’re ready.”

Krolia sauntered out vaguely the same way she’d sauntered vaguely in, but threw a wink over her shoulder and Shiro’s face reddened.

After Shiro had retreated into his room to think and to re-acclimate himself with his . . . new body . . .  he heard a piercing, confident knock paused him in his morning workout. He stood, quickly wiped the sweat off his face and opened the door to a stiff and tight-lipped looking Kolivan. He tried to give him a smile.

“Kolivan.”

He seemed to relax a small amount.

“Shiro.”

Kolivan stepped inside Shiro’s room and let his eyes roam for a moment before catching himself and turning back round to conduct his business. This was a Galra tendency Shiro was particularly affectionate of. That tendency toward wonder and curiosity before they shut it out with shame or pride - whatever toxicity won out in the end. It’s one of the things that reminded him humans and the Galra didn’t have that much separating them as individual species. It’s also what reminded him the most of Keith.

“I believe-” Kolivan stopped. He took out a book Shiro had let Antok borrow in that same vein of curiosity. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Shiro’s heart ached for him in that moment. This was always the worst part of losing someone. Having to redefine the spaces they used to occupy.

“I don’t need it,” Shiro said quietly, kindly. “You should keep it, I think you’d like it.”

Kolivan’s knuckles tightened around the edges, but he withdrew it and held it close to his chest.

“I don’t know how to read it.”

Shiro smiled.

“Keith and I can probably help you with that.”

Kolivan nodded, eyes darting to the left, then the right, then to the door to Shiro’s back. . . then finally, back to Shiro’s with a deep breath.

He held out a hand and Shiro took it. He knew he was expecting a handshake or something, but he surprised him by pulling him into a hug. Kolivan stiffened immediately, but after a good minute began to relax into it. He didn’t bring his arms up to return it, but let Shiro hold him close for a moment. Shiro counted that as success enough for one day.

Kolivan nodded mutely when he pulled back, refusing to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“I would very much like that.”


	6. Revised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited the ending on this one and added a bit - I'll finish up later this week. 
> 
> Once again, sorry this took so long---
> 
> Turns out leaving a 6 year relationship and coming to terms with not being straight and starting a new relationship in the same two months is pretty time consuming. 
> 
> So on that note - I updated this chapter to be a bit more realistic and representative of two people who love each other a lot but don't have any of their shit together. 
> 
> Enjoy & leave a comment!

A shameful piece of Shiro wanted to wait for Keith to approach him, but he knew he had to take the first step with this one. He’d run into Keith in the training area earlier, but Keith hadn’t even seemed to notice he was there at first - focusing intently on fighting the simulation. He’d informed Krolia of his intentions in case it went badly and she’d cleared her schedule without another word. Even now Shiro wondered how much she actually knew. He remembered something about the two of them seeing each other’s memories and glimpses of their prospective futures, but he was too cowardly to ask if he’d been in them. Whether or not the future was set, it still had to be his choice.

Shiro rounded the corner in the direction of Keith’s room and heard a noise. The door was hanging open. He stopped to listen.

 

 _“_ Keith?  _”_

 

Something solid crashed into the wall. Shiro ran. 

 

Shiro had never witnessed one of these episodes himself, but he'd dealt with the consequences of several personally. Inside the room, Keith was throwing fist after fist at the wall beside his bed, exerting so much effort, he didn't see or hear Shiro run and speak. 

 

“Keith, calm down. I need you to think--”

 

Shiro grabbed his arm and spun him, pinning him to the desk from behind. He struggled violently. 

 

"Keith, count with me - count to three, ready? One . . . two . . . th-" 

 

Unfortunately for the both of them, his head was still free and he flung it backwards into Shiro’s jaw. Shiro let out a yowl in shock and frustration. 

 

“ _Keith, STOP IT-”_  

 

Shiro clamped his metal arm into place around Keith’s middle and pulled him in close to try a different tactic _\--_ his mistake. Keith kicked viviously at the desk with his legs and the force of it sent them both stumbling back into the wall opposite. Shiro was almost laughing at the absurdity of it - he lost balance and fell, but held onto Keith as best he could, pressing his face between Keith’s shoulder blades and just breathing, just waiting. If the counting wasn't going to work, nothing was at this point, and all there was left to do was wait. 

 

Keith let out a breath of air in a rush and quickly retook, freezing the moment he felt Shiro’s breath on his back. Shiro didn’t know how long they stayed like that. It was a moment separate from time, separate from his small, human understanding of it anyway.

 

“Hey, hey, hey . . .” he whispered quietly, as comfortingly as he could. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

"Shiro . . ." he said, sounding a bit more lucid. 

 

"Yeah, it's me, buddy. I'm here. One . . . two . . . three . . ."

 

Keith took a few long breaths, spacing them out with Shiro's counting, then started to struggle again.

 

“Hey, now,” he held tighter. “Keith-”

 

“ _Just let me_.” Keith breathed with urgency.

 

Shiro immediately let go of his grip around Keith’s middle, but still kept the contact he could while Keith slowly and very carefully turned around to face him.

 

He looked calmer, more lucid, but his eyes were still wild. He drank in Shiro’s appearance almost like he was looking for differences, looking for similarities. Looking for proof of . . . something.

 

Shiro swallowed visibly and Keith’s eyes followed the movement.

 

Keith let out a breath, eyes wandering back to Shiro’s as he shifted to account for the awkward tangle of their limbs from the fall. Shiro almost held his breath, watching as Keith slowly lifted one leg over his thigh and then the other, settling when they were chest to chest with Keith’s thighs straddling Shiro’s. Shiro tried and failed to keep his mind off of the connotations, off of what this meant, what this  _could_ mean for the memories he didn’t have of the time the clone spent with everyone - with the team - with  _Keith -_ his grip tightened around Keith’s back and Keith let out a little gasp when his fingers gripped possessively at the skin over his ribs.

 

Keith brought hands up  _\- god, those hands -_ to run them through the white of Shiro’s hair, but then he froze and snapped his eyes shut.

 

“Um -- Shiro,” he said quietly.

 

“What . . . ?” Shiro almost gasped, dazed at the contact, at the memories, at the simple marvel of Keith and this easy contact they were sharing with one another.

 

“If you -- if any of this crosses any -- I just --”

 

Shiro exhaled and let his hand glide up to curl gently around the back of his neck and Keith shivered. Shiro felt it down to his toes and marveled at how receptive Keith was. But thinking - wondering - at how he came to be so comfortable climbing into Shiro’s lap like this . . . sucker-punched Shiro back about five steps. He sighed and lifted Keith off of him to give them both some breathing room - literally - and thought about how to say what needed to be said.

 

“Keith --”

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said quickly, looking stricken. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“Keith, no, that’s not --” Shiro sighed. “It’s okay . . . I just --” Keith waited. That piercing gaze too much for Shiro to look at head on. “I just don’t remember . . . some things. And I’m trying to lay out some boundaries because of that. Just for a little while.”

 

A dark look came to rest on Keith’s face.

 

“What  _ do  _ you remember?” he asked.

 

Shiro knew this anger wasn’t directed at him, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was. He pushed on in spite of it.

 

“Keith, I need to know.”

 

“Know what?” He asked, shifting away, starting to get to his feet.

 

“Keith, come on,” he reached for a wrist only for Keith to pull away further. “This isn’t exactly easy for me either. But we  _ have  _ to talk about it--” Shiro rushed to get to his feet in case - he didn’t know, exactly - in case Keith ran for the door or something.

 

But Keith turned on him with such an intensity he knew he’d been foolish to even question whether or not Keith would run from this. 

 

“You never used to say my name this much! I don’t know  _ why -  _ it’s like you’re being careful with me,  _ I hate it!”  _ Keith’s voice was louder than he’d probably meant it to be.

 

“Well, I am being careful, damn it!” Shiro shouted back, surprised. “I  _ want _  to be careful with you!”

 

Keith burst into tears and Shiro was there before the first even fell.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you. It won’t happen again,” he said softly, holding Keith as firmly as he dared.

 

Keith mumbled something into his shoulder that sounded so stubborn and righteous Shiro didn’t know whether to laugh or cry himself. It just felt . . . like home. He chuckled a bit and Keith pulled back, probably a little offended.

 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t hear what you said - but it just sounded so  _ you _ ,” Shiro laughed.

 

Keith made an embarrassed face and looked away before repeating himself.

 

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you either.”

 

Shiro could almost breathe again, thinking they’d stabilized, when Keith’s face started to scrunch up again and more tears fell. He moved his hands up to his face to look him in the eye.

 

“Whatever happened, I’m here now. And I’m sorry I left you alone,” Shiro whispered.

 

“I didn’t -- that’s not -- Shiro, I . . .” Shiro waited. “I couldn’t --”

 

“Shiro, I couldn’t tell it wasn’t  _ you. _ ” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So . . . not to be this guy, but what’s going on with you and Keith?”

Shiro didn’t know what to do with himself. On the one hand, he was heart-broken by Keith’s confession. On the other, he was terrified of bringing his emotions into play here at all. He didn’t want to further confuse an effect of actions whose path was so dangerously close to veering off course and Keith was confused and hurt enough as it was. He didn’t need to add his own hurt to that pile. 

 

If love existed, he was sure he had it for Keith. In the small ways that mattered, at least. But love isn’t something that can be communicated in any real way - in some ways he envied the galra for their seeming ability to  _ know  _ what they and those around them were feeling. But love is not the whole of anyone’s story - and he certainly knew it wouldn’t be his or Keith’s. If they never got their shit together, he would have learn to live with that. 

 

These things are always so simple in the mind before they come into being in all their flawed and untaught majesty. In the mind, there are no questions. In the mind we don’t make mistakes. And for that matter, Shiro was unsure of whether a mistake had been made at all. Or if it had, when it had been made. 

 

He never really knew what was happening. But regardless of what it decided to be that day, he walked himself through his morning all the same - that same tether that got him through cadet training, Kerberos, Adam . . . would surely guide him through this. 

 

He’d wake up before the rest of the castle, do push-ups until he no longer could, roll over and do the same for crunches, go through a form or two . . . although these days he’d head down to fight a simulation instead of just walking through one-steps and sparring techniques in his head, then he’d force himself to sit and do nothing before getting up to sometimes literally save the world. 

 

A knock at the door ripped him out of focus. Damn it. He paused, but didn’t rise out of the push-up. 

 

“Who is it?” he called. 

 

“We brought coffee!” Lance. 

 

“Uh. And breakfast?” Pidge. 

 

“Yeah - breakfast that  _ I cooked. _ ” Hunk. 

 

“We really don’t want to send in the mice to unlock the door for us, but we will if we must, Shiro.” Princess Allura. 

 

Shiro sighed and stood, throwing on a t-shirt to answer the door with at least a shred more of dignity. 

It was good to be surrounded by the old gang again, even if it was three teenagers (and one teenage-appearing galactic princess) crammed into his tiny room insisting he drink his coffee and eat Hunk’s breakfast - which was admittedly, delicious as always. 

 

He knew this wasn’t just a random house-call, though, no matter how comforting it was to have his people around him. So, he wasn’t surprised when Lance finally asked the question. 

 

“So . . . not to be this guy, but what’s going on with you and Keith?” 

 

Pidge looked like she’d swallowed a lemon and Hunk suddenly looked  _ very  _ anxious and Allura rushed to put out a fire. 

 

“What Lance means to say is, well . . . we’ve noticed some tensions rising recently and we wanted to check in with you and make sure all was well. The good of the few impact the good of the many with at team like Voltron and, well . . .” 

 

To everyone’s relief, Shiro laughed. 

 

“Scooch on over, Pidge,” he said before settling in next to her.  “I’m not gonna give out any personal information of Keith’s, but if you have questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.” 

 

Pidge quickly swallowed a gulp of coffee and turned to face Shiro with excitement in her eyes. 

 

“Oh, I have  _ so many  _ questions!” 

 

Everyone laughed and Lance reached over to tousle Pidge’s hair, messing up her glasses in the process. 

 

Regardless of the losses, regardless of Keith . . . regardless. I t was so good to be back. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely unbeta'd so point it out if you catch something! 
> 
> Folks who comment get a free Galra blade and a kitten.


End file.
